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THE MYSTERIOUS KEY OB, PLANNING FOB TUB FUrURE. < [^ CHAPTER XVI. The hours that followed that joy- ous reunion are sacrtnl to the lov- •rs alone, and who can desire to trespass upon them? To Gerald, Allison seemed lik« one miracul- ously given back from the dead. He had believed her lost to him for- ever, and so all his hopes had seem- ed to die with her. Life for the fu- ture had held no special attraction for him, although aince, perforce, he must live out his allotted time ; being governed by a conscientious- ness that was innate, he would have trie<l to spend it to some purpose lor others, even though he might reap no consolation therefrom. But now all this was changed I The dead was alive, thf> lost was Iouud, and henceforth the star of lope would gleam with no uncer- tain light. His listlessness, his apathy, was all gone, and it seem- •d a blessed thing once more to bo an inhabitant of earth. The lovers took no not© of time nor their surroundings. To them It was sufficient that they were in each other's presence â€" that they could look into each other's face and know that life and time were fctill theirs in which to live and love and hope. They were only brought back to other realities about them when Lady Bromley came to summon them to a little feast which had been prepared in honor of this bles- sed reunion. Gerald insisted upon carrying Alli- son down-stai^-s, although Mr. Ly- man smilingly assured him that be Kas better able to perform that ser- vice, since he had long been accus- tomed to it. "You are like a feather, my poor, wasted darling," he said as he lift- ed her in his arms, a thrill of pain iliooting through his heart as he found how very light she was. But her spirits had not failed, if ber body had, for throughout the meal she was as bright and merry •s of old. In fact, she wat the only one of the party who did not stem to be at all affected by the memory of the terrible shadow which had enveloped her for so many months. And why should she be affected by it ? To her those months had simply been a blank ; to thorn they had lieen full of suffering, every day having been marked by a sorrow and hopelessness tliat they would be long in forgetting. Gerald tried bravely to respond to her lively sallies with equal wit and j<jllity, but he was often oblig- ed to pause and take a swallow of water before he could trust hia voice to reply. When their feast was over, Alli- son was carried back to her cham- ber, and condemned to perfect rest and quiet for two hours, during »lu'.li Lady Bromley, Gerald, and the Lynians had a coufidinitial in- terview, when the whole history of the accident, its consequences and AUi.son's recent discovery by Ellen were discussed. During the afternoon the lovers Bjjent several hours together, when the past and their plans for the fu- ture naturally became the themo of conversation. Allison, during the mutual ex- change of confidences, told Gerald o* J<jlin Hubbard's efforts to drive licr into a marriage with him, and how, upon her refusal to submit, he had revealed the fact that she was not the child of Mr. and Mrs. Brewster, together with the proofs in his possession. "And, Gerald," she observed, while speaking of this, "these proofs were in one of those boxes which papa - he will always-b* 'papa' to me, even though I did not really belong to himâ€" sent you to get from the bank that Sunday ho died." Gerald started slightly at this. "That accounts for what he said, and what seemed nther strange to me at the time he asked nic to got them," he said. "He made me sol- emnly promise that I would never allow afiy one to suspect my visit VI errand to the hank, and to be careful not to excite the suspicions of any one while taking the boxes to him. One, he said, contained valuable jewels which had belonged to his wife, and which ho wanted you to have; 'the other,' ho adde<l â€"and I wondered what made him grow so pale â€" 'holds nothing of any special iniportanco to any one save myself." "i'oor papa! That proves that te wanted to destroy its contents, •o that 1 should never learn the truthâ€" that I was not his own child," said Allison, with a regret- ful sigh, and then she fell to mus- ing upon the perplexing mystery of her origin. "If you had only written me how John Hubbard was prosecuting you " Gerald began, after a nio- iq^nt, when Allison exclaimed, flushing violently : "1 did write and write, Gerald, but you never answered one of my letters." Gerald now grew crimson, then pale, and a savage light began to blaze in liis eyes. "Ah I I understand it all now, and it must be as 1 have long sua pectod," he roturnd. "John Hub bard must have intercepted ou" letters. That rascal did his work pretty thorouglily, but, like all rogues, he has come to the end ( f his rope at last." "Where is he now?" Allison in quired. "In New York," Gerald replied, and wondering if it would be be-t to begin upon the story of thj man's arrest â€" its whys and when iores, that afternoon. "I suppose that woman and her daughter â€" who, he said, were thj real heirsâ€" got all of papa's money," the girl pursued, with a regretful sigh. "Yea, the suit was decided in their favor," said her lover, but with a queer little smile beginning to play about his lips. "And did ho marry that girl? Anna Brewster, he called her. He told me he should, for 'he had no notion of allowing such a fortuae to slip through his fingers.' " "Did he dare talk like that to you?" exclaimed Gerald sternly. "Yes," he added, "they were mar ried shortly after the girl was pro- nounced the legitimate heir, w^en they went immediately abroad. 1 met John Hubbard on the Stram'. in London, one day, and had a sp (• ited conversation with him regarf' ing the rascally betrayal of his tiust in connection with you." "Well, Gerald," said AUiso.i, somewhat plaintively, "I am ver; thankful to be well again ; but I am sorry to be so â€" poor " "That does not trouble me in the least, my darling," Gerald into- posed with a gleam of mischief in his fine eyes. Allison flushed the daintiest piM-' imaginable at his words and look, but, with her mind still absorbd*! in the fact of her poverty, she con tinned : "I cannot understand it. It secins very unjust to me, for I know papa meant me to have that money, and it does not seem at all right that it should have all fallen intj the hands of that wicked man Ihvough tho.so two strange women, whu» I, whom papa so lov«d, should be left with nothing." "Allison, that was only -i pi-.'t c» John Hubbard's from begii i uj to end. He has coveted and si'hctn- ec for that fortune ever dnco i a f'rst became associated witli Mr. Browhter," Gerald returned. "Then you do not beliova th;it story was true â€" about his havij-g been married to and separated from that Woman previous to his union with mamma 'I" questioned the fail girl eagerly. "I am sure that she wai never his wife," Gerald positively affirm ed. "Oh, but can it be proved that she was not?" almost nreatfilessly demanded the pretty invalil. "Yes, Allison. Mr. Lyttletou and I have been at work for many weel.s making out a case of fraud agiinst that rascal, and wo can now provtj beyond dispute that it was only through forgery that John Hub- bard succeeded in getting pjsKos sion of the Brewster fortuno. and in proving this, we also establish the fact that his accomplice â€" thnr, woman â€" was never your fat^ier's wife." "Then no reproach can 'ail upon mamma's memory. She was pavja's lawful wife?" "Yes, my darling," said Gerald, bending to kiss the sweet, ti emu- lous lips. "Never allow that thought to trouble you again. The reputation of neither Mr. nor Mrs. Brewster has ever been tarni-hc<I, land this will soon he proved lo the world. There is to be a new trial about the first of February." ".\nd then I shall get my moniiy back, I suppose," said Allison, with a bright little laugh. "Oh, what an avaricious little party," gaily retorted her lover. "Are you so very anxious to re- cover your fortune?" he added more gravely. "Would it seem so very hard to have to share a lim- ited income with a poor clerk?" "No, it wouldn't be hard at all, Gerald," she responded, flushing. "I could be as happy as the day is long with you under any condi- tions," she concluded earnestly, and was rewarded for her delight- ful assurance by being caught pas- sionately to Gerald's breast. "But," she continued, as soon as she was allowed to reoovnr her breath, "I cannot help feeling snr- ly to lose this money, on your ac- count as well as my own. I know that i)apa would have been greatly distressed if be ha<I known that I was not to bo banofttted by il, and tlien â€" Iâ€" thought that perhaps now â€" after all that has happened, you might not bo quite so proud and â€" obstinate, and would be willing to take roe with my fortune," she concluded appealingly. At this Gerald's laugh rang out clear and hearty, and with a note of exultation in its tones. "I am afraid I should have been sorely tempted to waive my old scruples, in view of the unexampled devotion o-f a certain true-hearted little woman," he gaily respond- ed. "But, sweetheart, I am bound to confess that I am better satis- fied to havd matters stand just as the yare." "But I don't understand it all,'' said Allison, deeply perplexed. "You seem to imply I am not to have the property, after all ; but if John Hubbard's plot has been proved a fraud â€" if that woman was never his wile â€" I do not see why papa's will should not stand, and I be recognized as his heir." "It is because another claimant has appeared," Gerald explained. "Another claimant!" repeated the startled girl. "Papa had no relatives. Ah I yes, there is Cou- sin Annie Manning! Has she claimed his estate on the ground of being the nearest of kin upon learn- ing that I was not his own child? I would not have thought that of Annie," she concluded, a note of keen pain in her voice. Annie Manning had always been her ideal of a sweet, noble woman, Olid she held been very fond of her. "No, dear," Gerald gravely re- turned, and dreading to reveal the tiuth to her, yet he knew that she would have to know it sooner or later. "One who is nearer of kin tuan Mrs. Manning has appear- ed " "How can that be possible? You deal in enigmas, Gerald!" exclaim- ed Allison, becoming somewhat ex- cited. "If papa was never married before he wedded mamma, and had no children, how can there be a direct heir?" "My darling, pray be calm," pleaded Gerald tenderly. "I would not for the world cause you a mo- ment's pain or annoyance, but I have a story to tell you that will be a great surprise to you, and which, were it. possible, I should prefer to lutlihold from you. When I am through, you will understand why I have hesitated, from a feeling of sensitiveness, to disclose it. It is a story, however, which it would be impossible to keep secret, and 1 suppose I am the proper one to re- late it to you. To begin, I wil Isay that Mr. Brewster had been mar- ried previous to his union with the lady whom you called mother " "Oh, but you said " began Al- lison breathlessly. "Hush, dear. I said that the wo- man whom John Hubbard jproduc- ed as your father's .wife is an im- postor, and that no dishonor could possibly attach itself to either Mr. or Mrs. Brewster, as he attempted to prove. Nevertheless, ho was married to a Miss Miriam Harris, of New Haven, Connecticut, some three or four years previous to his union with Miss Porter. This first wife died a little over a year after- ward, and under preculiar circum- slaaces " "What a strange, strange story !" murmured Allison, with a wonder- ing sigh. "But go on! go on!" Gerald then related all that he knew of the history of Miriam Har- ris and her wedded life as reveal- ed in his aunt's â€" Miss Winchester's â€" letter to him, although he did not then expose the fact that he was the child who, upon his mother's death, had been left nameless in the care of a distant relative. He told her about the package of papers that had been so strangely f(>und in an old-fashioned cricket which was being made ready to be newly upholstered, how among them there had come to light a certificate attesting the union of Adam Brewster and Miriam Har- ris, together with the baptismal certificate of their only child, who was now the claimant for the Brew- ster fortune. "Why I" exclaimed Allison, when he concluded, "it is equal to the most exciting novel I ever read I" "It certainly is. It seemed so to me when I was following out the tangled threads," said Gerald, re- membering with a thrill the sen- sations which he had experienced upon finding those names upon the Now Haven books so mixed, and also his shock of astonishment up- on visiting the "Winchester" lot the following day. "And you and Mr. Lyttlcton are to have charge of the suit for the plaintiff â€" this newly discovered heir?" musii'.gly observed .Mlison. "Yes." And the young man smiled slightly, yet with something of a feeliiiii of uneasiness, for he really did not know how to disclose to her the identity of hia newly dis- covered heir. "How queer that seems, Gerald. Why, I think it is the strongest complication I ever heard of." "How so?" "Why, that you, the betrothed husband of the hitherto supposed heir of Adam Brewster, should be employed to work up a case against your own fiancee, which will result :u diverting (lie fortune which hor father wiiled li;r, and tlirow it in- to the possession of a noiv chiini- aut whose existence has heretofore been unknown !" "It is n 8ir'in,<?o ci'mplicwtinn. .ts you tay," observed the youua man. looking rather disturbed over hav- ing it stated thus. "And it is so wonderful, too," she went on thoughtfully, "to think of papa having had a son living all these years, and never knowing it I I wonder if mamma knew that he hod been married before she be- came his wife?" "1 am sure she never knew it, Allison," Gerald gravely returned. "The fact of all that secrecy hav- ing been preserved in connection with the first union, and that the wife was never claimed, or the birth of the son never discovered, would seem to prove that that episode was buried in his heart." "And yet he must have learned of the death of the first wife, or he would not have married again," the young girl argued. "Yes, but that part of it is a mys- tery which I fear will never be solved," said her lover, with a sigh. "And cow " "Have you- -have you see him, Gerald â€" this son?" Allison inter- posed rather incoherently, before he could go on. "Oh, yes, many times." "What is he like? Is he nice?" "That depends upon your inter- pretation of the word 'nice,' dear," he replied, smiling, but flushing suddenly. "Is he a worthy son of my fa- ther?" she questioned, her clear, serious eyes lifted to his face. "If he is, I can shake hands cordially with him, and tell him he is wel- come to the fortune." "Allison! what a grand, true- hearted little woman you are !" ex- claimed Gerald admiringly, his face luminous in view of her unexampled nobility and unselfishness. "But you have not answered ray question. Is he worthy?" "I hope he will prove himself to bfe so," he responded, with un- mistakable embarrassment. "Why!" Allison cried, starting up and searching his face with curious eyes, "how strangely you act ! You seem very mysterious ! Is this young man some one whom 1 already know? Oh, tell me, Ger- ald. I am just wild with curio- sity." And yet she had not a suspicion of the truth. Gerald drew a wallet from his pocket, took '.wo folded papers from it. and placed them in her hands. "Read those, love; they will ex- plain everything to you," he said in a tone that sounded rather strained and unnatural to her. Allison unfolded the one upper- most and found it to be the docu- ment certifying the marriage of Adam Brewster to Miriam Harris. Then, eagerly rmoothing out the other, she read the name of Ger- ald Winchester Brewster upon the baptismal record, andâ€" the mystery was solved. "Oh, Gerald !" she cried, blank- est astomshment written on her lovely face, "you are Adam Brew- ster's son !" (To be continued.) FIGHTING IN THE CLOUDS DIRE PREDICnON BY AN EM- INENT EXPERT. Great Times When the Aerial Bat- tleships (jcts Busy in the Game of War. "Aerial navies will be an accom- plished fact at an early date, not only because they are highly effici- ent, but because they are cheap. The present cost of Germany's army is over $200,000,000 a year. It has 600,000 men in active service, and 1,200,000 reserves. A fleet of 500 airships could be maintained for $15,000,000 a year, and 100 new ships added annually for $'25,000,- 000. The incentive to replace large bodies of troops by the new instru- ment of war will be extremely powerful on the ground of mere economy, in the present period of enormous war taxes." Such is the assertion of an enthusiastic believer in the aerial battleship. He goes on to say : "A new machine of war has ar- rived. It will be a ship as large and eventually much larger, than our present ocean battleships. It will fight from the height of a mile above the earth, and will maneuver dur- ing battle at a rate of 60 to 6.5 miles an hour. The general discussion of experts for a number of years has established a so-calleil zone of safety, in which the last German airship, the Zepi>elin II, has been built to travel in time of action. This is about 1,C50 yards (nearly a mile) above the surface of the earth. The reason for adopting this level was that here the airship is out of range of the military rifle, which conbtitutes ITS CHIEF DANGER. "Nothing alive on the ground can escape the fire of an airship. It will he armed with rapid-fire guns, carrying shells, but its chief reli- ance in fighting infantry or cavalry will be upon the machine rifle. \t u.\ this weapon it can turn a stream of 500 bullets a minute on any tiiiops within two miles, cxictly as R. man turns the streain of a gar- drnhose against a troe. Its gun- ners can see any object on the ground with a perfect clean.esa, im- possible of realization by anyone who has not flown in a balloon. They can thus mark the striking of bullfts perfectly. And the range of their guns is nearly doubled on account of their position. The fire of an airship will annihilate infan- try and cavalry beneath it, as sure- ly as the hand of God. It will not be directed long at any coherent body which could be called troops. Human nature forbids the possibili- ty of men remaining to be shot down like rats in a pit. "A Zeppelin airship is not a bal- loon, but a true ship â€" exactly cor- responding to an iron ocean ship. The Zeppelin I and Zeppelin II. two huge power-driven arrows, 448 feet long, are capable of being driven at a speed of 35 miles an hour through the air; and handled as quickly and easily not merely as an ocean-going ship, but as an auto- mobile. Nothing could be morn wonderful than the control of these great craft. Turning figures of eight is A COMMON TRICK. "An aerial ship 150 feet long and 51 feet wide could carry a dozen men a mile high in the air over a radius of 500 miles, and back ; that is, it could reach eveiy principal capital of Europe from the borders of German territory and return. It could, in addition, devote at least five tons of cargo weight to arms and ammunition. This could include ten machine rifles, each equipped with ammunition enough for a full hour's work, and two machine guns of the type built for the Zeppelin I, with 200 shells for each weapon. Two and a half tons of dynamite torpedoes could be substituted for half of the machine guns and their ammunition, if it were desired to attack fortifications or cities. Forty craft of this kind could be built and armed at the cost of one Dreadnought battleship. And such a fleet, without opposi- tion from other airships, could con- quer Western Europe. The mo- ment it is launched, the standing armies of Europe become an anach- ronism. "The weapons of a ship of thi.'i kind against battleships would be large aerial torpedoes, filled with high explosives. It has been pop- ularly assumed that mi.9siles of this kind would be simply dropped from the airship. This would be ridicul- ous. No possible aim can be secured by dropping any object down through a mile of air, filled with conflicting cross-currents. THE AERIAL TORPEDO will be fired from a long, light tube, by compressed air or some similar means, with sufficient force to give It some initial speed, and a rotation which will keep it from turning over. It will consist of 150 or 200 pounds of high explosive, like maximite, which cannot be set off by concussion, but is exploded by a fuse which concussion will ignite; and will carry a steel cap at its end. The initial velocity, and the force of gravity acquired in the fail of a mile through the air will give this a great speed by the time it reaches the deck of a ship. It will pass through the upper decks to the armored deck below, where the slowly burning fuse will at last ex- plode it, and its force, directed against the sharp-pointed steel cap, will drive this through the armored deck and tear away the inside of the ship. There is no reason why this weapon should not become as dangerous as the submarine tor- pedo, whose explosion against the side of a warship is conceded to n'ean its destruction or disable- ment. "In destroying troops on the ground the airship will take no seri- ous risk. Its position makes it practically omniscient, so far as the movements of its enemies on the ground are concerned. Only pre- pared artillery can possibly hit it; therefore, it will attack only when artillery is not ready. It will work to windward at a low level ; then rise into the high winds of the zone of safety, and swoop over unpro- tected bodies of infantry and cavalry with the speed of AN EXPRESS TRAIN. Or at night it will swing search- lights^ (steadied by wind-vanes and electrically focussed) hundreds of feet below its car, and fire from the dark above on a well-illuminated mark. Maneuvering will play the greatest part in its development as a fighting machine, and in general its tactics will be that of jiu-jitsu â€" a quick and sudden b'ow ot a vital part, with no possibility of retun. "It is at this point that the aero- plane will play its vitally important part. The speed of these craft will j be some twenty miles an hour great- er than that of the larger ships ; they will he, by their small size and rapid and eccentric motion, absolutely immune from gun fire, and, when fully developed, they can j be counted on to carry at least two I men and a machine rifle. Scouting j aeroplanes will get in touch with ^ the enemy while the airships is hid- . den below the windward horizon. j Wireless equipment, for a short I distance. ,ctu be carried by nero- ' planes, and the airships, similarly equipped, will be exactly informed of all openings for attacks, before tlie eie.ny has an ii.kling of their whereabouts." » ♦ ♦ ♦-»♦♦♦♦ ♦-â-ºâ™¦â™¦â™¦â™¦â- Â»â- Â»â™¦â™¦â€¢Â»â™¦â- Â» : Aboui the Farm : * * (H-t-f^^-f ♦♦♦♦♦♦-» ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦* THE POTATO CROP. I have grown potatoes successful- ' ly on various soils, writes 8. C. • Cubbage. But conditions mvst bo > right or a failure will result. It have grown good crops on low bot-_^ torn land, where the drainage was perfect. The potato delights in at moist soil, but water should nofc stand for any length of time. New-* ly cleared land has nearly alwayv given me good crops, but my pre- ference of soil is a medium loam' with a good clover sod, as I can* grow a crop much cheaper. Phos-< j'horic arid and potash are the pre-^ vailing ingredients in a potato fer- tilizer with a small per cent of nit-' rogen. This is not a very expen-. sive fertilizer, and has always giv-^ en me good crops when used on clover sod. I buy the materials' and mix the fertilizer by the foU kiwing formula : Acid phosphat^ I and fish scrap 880 pounds each, mu- riate of potash 400 pounds. Thih costs about $22.80 a ton. I used lOCO pounds to the acre of this mi:!f- ture, 500 broadcast, after the land is plowed. This is worked well in- to the soil with a riding cultivat<)r and heavy spike-tooth harrow. When ready to plant, I open t!jo furrows six inches deep, three and one-half feet apart, and distri- bute evenely the other 500 pounds in the furrows. The seed is selected at digging time from the most productive hillsj Tubers of good, medium size and uniform shape are used. We cut* the pieces with two good, strong eyes, and plant 16 inches apart ii\ the furrow, and cover by throw- ing a light ridge with a one-hors€f plow from each side of the row. L have discarded the use of fresh| barnyard manure for potatoes as it invariably produces more or less'' scab with me. Well-rotted manure- applied to the sod the fall previ-. ! ous to planting is all right. The ^ largest yield I have ever raised was on a field that had not had any' stable or barnyard manure for six' years. The field had been rotated, . corn one year, wheat one year, , clover two years. The sod was turned May 1st and kept well work- ' ed until June 18th, when the po- • tatoes were planted and the above • formula of fertilizer used. All the , commercial nitrogen that was used was what the fish scrap contained. When I plant potatoes on land ' that has no sod, I use in addition â-  the above formula 100 pounds of nitrate of scda to the acre at plant- ing time, and a second 100 pounds • when the tops are about 8 inches . high. The last application is sown along the sides of the rows and cultivated in immediately, as it is . very soluble and dterinrates fast if left exposed to sun and moisture. • I have never had such good success , with potatoes planted after any . other crop, as I have on a clover • sod. PASTURE FOR PIGS. The value of pasture for hogs is . more generally recognized now than . it ever was. Of course its value per . acre depends upon what kind of pasture it is. Clover pasture has been recognized longer as profit- able for this purpose than any other kind. But the coming into use more generally of alfalfa in some sections has made it a favorite for hog pasture at certain seasons. Rape is also greatly esteemed for hcgs because it grows so rapidly, but it requires more grain feeding with it. Any of these pastures are valuable for hogs, for it makes them very healthful and gives them rapid growth. Swine feeding upon a pasture probably require more food than do those in yards because more en- eigy is required in grazing than in laying around a yard. But they get more out of the food given them while in pasture than otherwise, because of the nature and likely combinations of the food and thei greater activity of the digestive organs brought about by e.xercise. The green food increases the di- gestive capacity of young pigs and puts them in a better condition for latter fattening. Just what a pasture is worth is hard to say, though its value per acre is known to equal from 1,500 to 3,00 pounds of feed. FARM NOTES. Feed hens bone meal or crushed oyster shell at least once a week (daily would be better). Plaster from the wall will also answer the purpose. The man who bores auger holes in his stable floors to allow the li-j quid manure to escape from the; barn, is making holes in his pocket- book. A simple, inexpensive device, should be employed to save it. I The Maine experiment station re-| commends that eight pounds ofi acid phosphate, eight of kainit and half a peck of sawdust thoroughly mixed can gainfully be used with the weekly droppings from 25 chick- ens ; that when no preservative* were used, at least 60 per cent.l ( f the nitrogen in hen manure waij lest in the form of ammonia, which) less is entirely avoided by tne pr^i garvativcs mentioned.